A Man and his Rifle
by Lucidique
Summary: Boone spends some quality time with two of his favorite things: Girlie mags and his rifle.  PWP, courtesy of a kinkmeme prompt.


**A/N- **Courtesy of yet another meme prompt. Solo Boone Fun Time is a blast to write. Just be gentle, this is my first attempt at smut. XD If self-love isn't your thing, you may want to look elsewhere. If it is, please leave a review and let me know how I did!

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><p>Craig Boone had been through a lot of things that would cause anyone to lose sleep, so the regular bouts of insomnia were not only quietly tolerated, but expected. When offered a night watch job in Novac, it had made all the sense in the world to take it. Most of his nights were spent in complete solitude, save for the times he had to put the random molerat or gecko down. Once in a while, he'd get the pleasure of following a Fiend through the scope of his rifle, stalking him from afar before he finally put a bullet through their skull. But for the majority of the time, Boone was alone, wrapped safely in the jaws of a monster.<p>

It was in these extended periods of time that Boone caught up on some reading. Nothing too complex, just something nice and simple to relieve some stress.

_Battle Cry _and _Stag _had been the reason he wanted to join the army as a teenager, detailing exciting stories of long fought wars. Boone was very disappointed to learn that articles such as _The Berlin Nudes and their Studio of Torture _weren't based on historical fact. But the pictures made up for it. His tastes became a bit more tame as years went by, opting for literature such as _Frolic _or _Rogue_. Less words, more pictures.

Boone surveyed the land one last time before finally deciding it was quiet enough. A little peek wouldn't hurt. He knelt at a familiar spot, running calloused fingers against the floor until he found the sweet spot. The planks groaned under the force of his hands, prompting the sniper to hook his fingers as far under them as he could and pulled up. A small bit of the floor came up, revealing a stash of magazines. Boone took the one on top, a worn out issue of _Frolic_. His favorite.

There was a spread in this issue that Boone was very fond of, where was it... Where was it... Ahh, there we go. The brunette looked down at him from her window with an inviting smile, her arm draped across her breasts in a dainty attempt of decency. The two blondes on the next page seemed unaware anyone was watching them as they washed the red convertable, their wet clothing clinging to every curve.

Slowly, the muscles in his shoulders began to relax, and a familiar ache began building in the pit of his stomach. He traced a finger around the curve of one of the girl's waist, one he affectionately referred to as Honey, as he used his free hand to loosen his belt.

Boone settled himself against the wall and carefully slid down into a kneeling position, his boot heels digging into taut thigh muscles. He turned the pages of the magazine to be greeted by a girl he knew all too well. A redhead, clad in a pale yellow bikini. She was bent over, in the middle of applying some sort of lotion to her legs. Little patches of sand stuck to the girls thighs and backside, all in the right places for Boone.

His hand moved of its own accord, unable to ignore the building heat for a moment longer, fumbling with the button and zipper of his cargo pants. He pulled them down a few inches below his hips, just enough to free himself of their confines. Boone reached in and gently gripped himself, his hand loose around the base of his cock. The desert air felt so good as it danced across his flesh.

Slowly, almost teasingly so, he stroked upward, biting back a sigh as the tip brushed against the rough fabric of his shirt. His fingers traced back down the length, and Boone couldn't help but weakly arch himself forward into his waiting grasp once more. He took himself into his hand again, giving it a few more teasing caresses. The ache that started in his gut had turned into a throbbing now, radiating from his very core, coursing as loud as the blood rushing to his head. Boone looked down at himself with half lidded eyes as he quickened his pace with each stroke, only to come to a near stop when he got too close to the edge, rubbing slow and torturous circles around the underside in an attempt to calm himself down.

He looked over at the picture again and wondered what exactly she'd look like in that same position, but with her bikini bottoms pulled down to her knees. Or what her hands would feel like instead of his own, working him into a frenzy. Boone lost himself and let a groan escape through gritted teeth. He tightened his grasp, his movements becoming more and more erratic with every pump, until he threw his head back against the wall with a silent _fuck_ escaping his lips, his climax teetering on the brink. Boone arched his back and pulled his shirt above his stomach, letting the head of his cock graze against his bare skin. Every tense muscle in his body cried out for release. The silent obscenities became vocal and laced with exhausted sighs and grunts in the last moments before the first wave of orgasm rushed over him. Boone screwed his eyes shut, blinded by the starry haze as he came, matching every beat of the euphoria pulsing through him with a fleeting thrust.

After a few seconds of afterglow daze, Boone cracked his eyes open, still trying to regulate his breathing. He looked down once more, noticing his heartbeat through his sweat-dampened shirt. He ran his fingers against his stomach and through his transgressions as it glittered like pearls in the moonlight. A smile flashed over his features, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. The night shift wasn't so bad sometimes.


End file.
